


The Task

by Art3misiA



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Canon Divergence, Gen, Pre-First Wizarding War, Prophecies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misiA/pseuds/Art3misiA
Summary: What if there was a second prophecy - one no one but Voldemort knew about? Could it change the tide of the war? And what would it mean for Bellatrix, an unwitting pawn in the Dark Lord's grand plan?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: 2020 Wicked Witches Of Hogwarts





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta, Anne_Ammons. Your keen eye smooths out all the rough edges!

* * *

**  
****  
1965**

_“There is one whose heart is as black as hair and name. She will be powerful, feared, and the Dark Lord’s most fervent supporter. Many will die at her hand; yet, death will find her at an epic battle between the sides of Light and Dark. Only with her demise can right prevail.”_

Voldemort withdrew from the pensive, having watched the memory several times. He knew the words by heart now, but continued to study the scene carefully, on the alert for any subtle signs that might be important. He had seen nothing more of interest, however, and so he turned his thoughts instead to the description of the unknown woman whose fate the Seer in the dingy tavern had spoken of. None he knew fit that profile. She could be anywhere, and of any age. However, he was certain she would be a pureblood. She could not be anything else. He certainly would not allow anyone less to stand in his inner circle!

Luckily, no other patrons of the tavern had heard the prophecy, and Voldemort was able to follow the man once he left, disposing of him quietly. Few were aware of his movements, and that was the way he wanted things to stay until he was ready to declare otherwise. Regardless, any predictions related to his future should not be taken lightly. Surely it was fate that he had been drinking beside the Seer that night, conversing quietly, when the other man’s eyes rolled back and he began speaking in a low, guttural voice.

While he appreciated the idea of such a loyal follower, especially one who might wield significant power - so long as it did not surpass his own, it seemed that eventually she would be a liability in his quest to rule. He would need to think about this, and put plans in place - failsafes and safeguards, to ensure his success.  
  


* * *

  
**1967**

Voldemort stalked up and down the seventh floor corridor. He was furious. How dare that old fool Dumbledore refuse him the Defence Against The Dark Arts post! The irritating man was mocking him, he was sure of it—! _Why_ _was the thrice-cursed door not appearing_ —? He stopped and took a deep breath to calm himself. All this anger was clouding his mind, dimming his concentration.

  
Focusing only on his desire to hide the diadem, Voldemort resumed his trek. Finally, the door appeared. With a hum of satisfaction, he grasped the handle. Just as he turned it, the back of his neck tingled. _Someone was watching him!_ He whipped around with his wand out and scanned the corridor, but it was empty. Frowning, he ducked into the Room of Requirement.


	2. Bellatrix

Under a disillusionment charm, Bellatrix watched from an alcove concealed behind a tapestry as the hooded man disappeared through the door that had appeared in the wall. Though she only caught a glimpse of his face, she was certain he had visited her father’s home. She was sure the man was none other than Lord Voldemort, the leader of the emerging resistance her father was a part of.

Why was he at Hogwarts? Whatever the reason, it was clear from his restless pacing and the waves of anger coming off him that he had not achieved his goal. And what was of interest to him in the Room of Requirement? Was he here to find young, eager supporters? She was certain it would please her father if she were to join the Dark Lord's ranks. Her heart beating in anticipation, Bellatrix waited for him to emerge.

She did not have to wait long. Soon enough, the door opened and he stepped through, glancing furtively around to be sure he hadn't been observed. 

She was about to cancel the Disillusionment charm and step out from her hiding place, when she saw his face clearly and suddenly found herself frozen, unsure. Something was strange about his features. They were… not quite  _ human,  _ somehow. She thought he might once have been quite handsome, but his appearance had been distorted. An involuntary sound escaped her lips, and Voldemort looked around sharply.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

Bellatrix shrank further back into the alcove, afraid. What would he do to her if he discovered her?  _ When  _ he discovered her? She had no means of escaping undetected.

He whipped out his wand. " _ Hominem Revelio!" _

She felt the magic that had concealed her drain away. Swallowing hard, she stepped out, hands clasped in front of her and eyes downcast.

"What were you doing behind there? What did you see?" Voldemort strode forward, gripping her neck and pushing her back against the wall.

"Answer me, girl!" He tightened his grip, causing Bellatrix to gasp for air.

"I—was hiding from the prefects!" She rasped.

"Why? Who are you?"

Struggling to take a breath, Bellatrix tugged at his hands, trying in vain to loosen the grip on her neck. She could feel the raw power coming off him in waves, a power that both frightened and thrilled her. "I—hexed a student. I'm—Bellatrix Black."

Voldemort’s strange eyes widened momentarily in surprise. They roved over her, seeming to take her in for the first time. He loosened, but did not release, his hold. 

"Heart as black as hair and name," he murmured. "Cygnus's daughter? Do you know who I am, Miss Black?"

She did her best to nod, still pinned to the wall. 

"You're Lord Voldemort. The Dark wizard who is going to usher forth a new world."

Voldemort finally released her, watching blandly as she rubbed at her neck. "And what is your view of my aims?"

"I support them, my Lord," she said eagerly. "We have been hiding in the shadows for too long. We should not fear muggles. They should fear  _ us _ !"

"Indeed," he nodded. 

A sound further down the corridor caused them both to look in that direction. “I think it’s best I take my leave,” Voldemort said. “Farewell, Miss Black.” He turned on his heel and strode away without a second glance at her.

“Farewell,” Bellatrix whispered at his retreating back. Her stomach felt like it was full of pixies. She stood in place long after he had disappeared from sight, her mind racing.  
  


* * *

The first week of the term break had been terribly boring. Her parents declared that it was time to begin considering potential matches for her now that she was sixteen; which meant she had been dragged along to several dinners to meet potential suitors and their parents. 

Just a day prior, they had visited the home of the Lestranges, where she was introduced to Rodolphus and his brother, Rabastan. Privately, she thought they weren’t worthy of her hand. Neither was very ambitious, and while they weren’t complete dullards, their intelligence did not come close to matching hers. Still, it seemed that out of all the men she had been presented to, the Lestrange brothers appealed to her parents the most. In the event one of them was chosen for her, she would do her duty as a pureblood daughter and accept the match.

She was in the sitting room with her mother and sisters that evening when one of their elves appeared before her.

“Mistress Bellatrix, your father be requesting your presence in his study right away.”

She nodded her understanding and stood. No doubt he had made a decision in regards to who she would marry and was about to make his choice known to her. As she wandered through the house, Bellatrix strengthened her resolve to accept her father’s decision; it was her duty. Therefore, when she knocked on the door of her father’s study and stepped over the threshold after he bade her enter, she was quite unprepared for the sight that greeted her.

“Good evening, Miss Black. How lovely to see you again.” Lord Voldemort reached for her hand and placed a polite kiss on her knuckles, which caused her heart to hammer inside her chest.  
  


* * *

**1968**

_ “I have a task for you, Bella. Do not ask questions. Just do exactly as I say, and report back to me when you have completed it. Succeed, and you will be welcomed into my inner circle.” _

It had been eight months since Lord Voldemort had appeared in the Black home and invited Bellatrix to join the ranks of his loyal supporters. It was difficult to attend meetings during the school term, especially with the meddlesome Dumbledore acting as headmaster, but the Dark wizard presented her with a solution.

Handing her a nondescript leather-bound diary, he instructed her to keep it with her at all times. To anyone else it looked perfectly ordinary, but to her it held many secrets. The diary contained a charm which allowed her to communicate with him freely without detection, because the messages would disappear as soon as they had been written or read. It was a wonderful piece of spellwork, and his teachings allowed her to improve her knowledge of the Dark Arts instead of the drivel that passed for knowledge at Hogwarts. 

She used the Room of Requirement to secretly practice her lessons. Occasionally, she would try her spells on other students, wiping their memories after.  _ But not too often,  _ Voldemort cautioned her in his messages.  _ It would not do for one of the teachers to notice the students are suffering the effects of Dark magic. Be especially careful of Dumbledore; He’s a tricky bastard, and very astute. _

Since being accepted into his circle of followers, Bellatrix had dreamed of two things - being bestowed with the Dark Mark, the symbol he awarded only to his most trusted and loyal soldiers; and to become Voldemort’s bride. The first, he promised once she finished school, should she continue to please him. 

Voldemort would not Mark her while she was still at Hogwarts. Shortly before she returned for her seventh year, she pleaded with him to consider it, but his refusal had been firm. “It’s far too risky, Bella. Even with glamour charms and long sleeves, there is always the chance someone - someone like  _ Dumbledore _ —” he spat the word, as if uttering the man’s name left a foul taste in his mouth—” may discover your allegiance, and then I will be exposed. It is not yet time for me to reveal myself to the world.”

That, she could accept, though the waiting was nearly unbearable. Regrettably, her second desire seemed fated never to be.

_ Forgive my boldness, my Lord - but it is my understanding you are unmarried. Have you given consideration to who you will take as your wife? _

His reply made her heart sink. She fancied she could hear his amused chuckle bleeding into the paper with his words.

_ My dear Bella, I have no time or use for a wife. I have far too much to achieve to concern myself with such trivial matters. _

She was certain that if Lord Voldemort asked for her hand, her parents would have readily agreed. But in absence of his proposal, it was arranged that she was to wed Rodolphus Lestrange. The marriage would take place as soon as the school year ended. Although she was not violently opposed to the match, Rodolphus was not who she wanted. She supposed that when the time came to consummate the match, she would lie back and think of her master.

Jolting herself out of her reverie, Bellatrix checked once more she had everything she would need. It was finally Samhain, and she was ready to carry out the task he had assigned her several weeks ago. Although Lord Voldemort assured her that the time and day were of no consequence when performing the ritual, nevertheless, she had chosen this date specifically, as she believed the increased levels of power and narrowing of the barrier between worlds associated with the holiday would lend her additional strength for the dangerous act she was preparing to carry out. She knew very little about what exactly the spell was for - just that it was dark and forbidden magic.

Gathering the small bag that held what she required, Bellatrix moved casually through the Slytherin common room, slipping past her raucous housemates, and into the deserted corridor. Another good thing about Samhain, she reflected, was that everyone was too busy celebrating and drinking to pay close attention to anything.

Once alone in the dungeons, she quickly cast a disillusionment charm over herself and made her way up to the fourth floor where there was a secret passage which would take her to Hogsmeade. Hidden behind a mirror that hung in one of the corridors was a large, cavernous space, with a path that would lead her away from the school beyond.

Upon her arrival in the small wizarding village, Bellatrix crept quietly past the sleeping shops, monitoring her surroundings carefully. The final thing she needed was already here; she just needed to find it. The first few alleyways contained nothing but smelly rubbish bins, discarded boxes and other assorted detritus, but at last she came upon what she was looking for. 

Reaching carefully into her bag, she withdrew the item she had bought with her, making sure to hold it tightly so it would not shift or clink. She thought back to what Lord Voldemort had told her.  _ You must act in cold blood, and with no remorse.  _ Bellatrix looked up to the moon, sending a silent prayer to the dark spirits who would be present on this holy night, asking them to steady her hand and her resolve.

Then she took a deep breath, looked down at the drunk man sleeping under a cardboard box, and raised her wand.

Later, safely ensconced in her dormitory and concealed by the hangings around her bed, she opened the diary and scrawled her message.

_ I have done as you asked, my Lord. The ritual is complete.  
  
_

* * *

**2 May, 1998**

Bellatrix was in her element. This was it —a fight to the death, the final push to defeat the filthy mudblood lovers, the blood traitors, and the vile Order. She had already killed several people; and expected to take more lives before the battle ended. She would, of course, be victorious. She always was. Her talisman, the ornate silver ball attached to a chain that hung from her belt, swung gently as she moved.

Currently, she was engaged in a three-on-one duel with the Weasley girl, Potter's mudblood, and another witch she didn't know. Despite her loathing of everything the girls represented, she admired their bravery in taking her on. Still, even with their surprisingly skilled spellwork and impressive tactics, they were not nearly powerful enough to take her down. And now the girls were tiring, slowly but surely. 

And there—! An opening—! This was so much  _ fun! _

Bellatrix fired a curse at the Weasley girl, cackling madly. It missed by mere inches. The shock on the young witch's pale face was palpable. Raising her wand again to follow through, her next attack was interrupted as Molly Weasley bore down on the scene, her wild red hair crackling in her fury.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" 

The Weasley matron charged into the huddle of teenagers like a stampeding Hippogriff, knocking them out of the field of fire and taking up a battle stance. Immediately, Bellatrix went on the offense, firing off a volley of curses and hexes that the older witch parried with ease before returning fire with some choice attacks of her own. They were powerful spells — potentially  _ devastating  _ spells, should any find their mark. The knowledge made her hop about with glee as her adrenaline spiked. Of course Molly would have no compunction about using deadly force - she  _ was  _ a Prewett, after all, one of the old and powerful wizarding families.  _ Also _ , Bellatrix considered as she deflected, danced and fired spells,  _ the instinct to ensure the survival of one's progeny is powerful. _

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?" she called mockingly to the redheaded witch. The jibe spurred her opponent to fight even more fiercely than before, and soon Bellatrix realised with an unpleasant shock that Molly was  _ gaining the upper hand.  _ This couldn’t be allowed. She had to finish this duel now. She would—

A spell came, seemingly out of nowhere, and hit her in the chest. She was falling, falling. She tried to move, to roll, to do anything, but her body was not responding to her brain’s commands.  _ She killed me, _ Bellatrix realised.  _ The blood traitor bitch killed me.  _ Then:  _ I failed him. _

All around her, there was darkness. Darkness and silence. She lay for an age, all her senses seemingly frozen, not knowing where or when she was. She was surely dead, and yet, she felt—not  _ alive,  _ but nevertheless  _ there.  _ Bellatrix tried to make sense of it. The curse the Weasley matriarch had used was most definitely a fatal one; it was an old, old curse known only to the most ancient families. How then, was she seemingly still alive? What, or who, had protected her? Her thoughts flew to the heirloom she wore at all times - had her _ talisman  _ protected her, somehow?

Abruptly, sound began to leech into her surroundings. She could hear shouting, crashing, hurried footsteps. And she could  _ feel. _ Sensation was returning to her fingers, the digits tingling. She tried to wiggle them, and to her amazement, they twitched. Bellatrix continued to lie where she was as her consciousness slowly returned. How long did she remain prone on the stone floor where she had landed? An hour? A day? She didn’t know. But gradually, as she regained control over her body, she was able to slowly sit up, grasp her fallen wand, then rise to her feet.

As she stood, she had a moment to realise that barely any time must have passed at all, for all the combatants were still present. But they had stopped fighting to watch a duel that was in progress in the middle of the room, a duel between her Lord and—she stared in amazement.  _ Harry Potter!  _ But he was dead—wasn’t he?

Her attention, and that of everyone else in the Great Hall, was diverted when a girl screamed.

“Bellatrix Lestrange lives!” she cried. Her eyes were open wide with terror as she pointed.

As one, the room turned to regard her. More gasps and screams followed. “But—but  _ how? _ ” someone asked.

Lord Voldemort started to laugh. “The prophecy has been defeated!” he cried triumphantly. “We are victorious!”

Bellatrix furrowed her brow, confused.  _ What prophecy was he talking about? Surely not Trelawney's one — Potter is still alive; how can it have been defeated? Was there a second one that her Lord had not told her about? _

“You should have learned better than to trust in prophecies, Riddle!” Potter shouted. “Look what happened to you the last time you listened to one!”

“Ahh, but my dear boy,” Voldemort replied, “This prophecy occurred far, far before you were born. Before your  _ parents _ were born. I have been preparing for this day for many years. I—”

“—a  _ horcrux _ ! There, on her—!” 

Bellatrix frowned, turning her head in the direction of the whispered voice. Had they said  _ horcrux _ ? What was that? And why was her master speaking of having prepared? Surely he wasn't referring to _ —her?  _

What had she done? What had  _ he  _ done?

She felt a tug at her waist, and looked down. There was no one there. But her talisman was gone! “ _ Homenum Revelio! _ ” She aimed her wand at the vague shape scurrying towards the crowd. The person went sprawling as the concealment charm was undone. It was the mudblood! And the chain with the silver ball attached was dangling from her hand! Rage welled up in her chest.

“Filthy mudblood!” she shrieked. “How  _ dare  _ you lay your hands on a Black family heirloom?” She raised her wand.

“ _ Cru _ —”

“ _ Expelliarmus! _ ” Her wand flew out of her hand and she stared at the Longbottom boy in disbelief. He was standing protectively in front of the mudblood, his wand in one hand and the sword of Gryffindor in the other.

“Neville! You need to destroy this with the sword!” the mudblood screamed. She slammed the silver ball to the floor and withdrew her hand. 

The Longbottom boy spun, tossing the girl his wand so both hands were free to raise the weapon above his head. Distantly, Bellatrix heard her Lord scream with fury as the sword swung down in a wide arc. Time seemed to slow, to almost stop. The blade glittered and appeared to glow as it descended and finally struck the heirloom in a shower of sparks.

Instantly, there was an explosion and a screech, followed by a thick column of smoke that issued from the blackened piece of jewelry. Moments later, she felt a burning agony in her chest, as if something was tearing her apart from the inside. It felt like the time when she had been a mere schoolgirl, when she had killed the old drunken man in Hogsmeade on Samhain and then performed the incantation Lord Voldemort instructed her to cast.  _ For protection, _ he told her.  _ That is all you need to know. _ But this pain far exceeded what she had experienced previously. Bellatrix doubled over, desperately trying not to scream. 

_ What was that thing? What did it  _ **_do_ ** _ to me?  _ Her mind gibbered.  _ Was the ritual truly designed to protect me…? Or was it to protect my Lord from something?  _ Her heart sank as part of her began to question what she truly meant to him. 

_ No,  _ she decided.  _ I was always willing to lay down my life for him, and that has not changed. I will always follow his command without question.  _

_ “Avada Kedavra! _ ” 

A green jet of light shot past her, heading for Longbottom and the mudblood, but it rebounded harmlessly off the shield that had appeared in front of them. She stared in shock.  _ How was that possible? The killing curse couldn’t be blocked. _

“Leave her alone, Riddle! You’re fighting me!” 

Potter again. Ever the disgusting hero. He fired a spell at Voldemort which caused him to stumble and turn in his direction.

“Very well, Potter. I will dispose of you first,” Voldemort said, raising his wand. 

The duel began anew. Bellatrix spotted her wand, lying where it had fallen after she had been disarmed, and took the opportunity the distraction afforded her to lunge for it. She would get her revenge. Scanning the faces around her for the mudblood, she spied her retreating into the crowd.

_ “Avada—!” _

_ “Bombarda Maxima!” _

The mudblood had been quick, quicker than Bellatrix could have imagined. The force of the spell knocked her clear across the room, crushing her ribcage. She sprawled on the stones, gasping for breath as the crowd around her parted like a sea.

“No!” Voldemort howled. His red eyes glowed as he turned to attack the girl who had dared to strike the fatal blow against his most loyal servant. He raised his wand—

_ “Sectumsempra!” _

A river of blood burst from Voldemort’s body. His face contorted with shock and confusion even as he fell to the floor. Bellatrix tried to reach out to the only man she had ever cared for, desperate to touch him, but it was hopeless. He was too far away. Every move caused her pain. Her vision was darkening around the edges. She watched, helpless, as Potter moved to stand over Voldemort’s prone form, to watch him die.

“That was Severus Snape’s spell,” Potter said. “Only he knew the countercurse; he might have saved you... But you killed him, didn’t you?”

Voldemort could do nothing but snarl up at the Boy Who Lived, the boy who had defeated the greatest Dark wizard of all time, as his life’s blood pooled rapidly around him.

“But then again, Snape  _ wouldn’t  _ have saved you, even if you had spared his life,” Potter continued. “You should know he was Dumbledore’s man; had been since you killed my mother. And you had no idea.”

"You... _ dare!"  _ Voldemort rasped.

"Do you know how I was able to block your  _ Avada?"  _ Potter asked. 

Bellatrix watched helplessly as he flicked his wand and summoned Voldemort's, catching it neatly and twirling it between his fingers as he paced in front of her fallen Lord. 

"You see, you made a mistake when you killed Snape. You did it because you thought he was the rightful owner of the Elder Wand, and that by ending his life, it would accept you as its new master.

"But it didn't, did it? Your spells still lacked power. Your killing curse was as easy to block as a tickling hex." Potter paused. "Snape  _ wasn't  _ the rightful owner of the Elder Wand. The rightful owner was the person who disarmed Dumbledore right before Snape killed him...Draco Malfoy."

The crowd gasped. 

"And I disarmed him during the skirmish at Malfoy Manor," Potter added, "making  _ me  _ the rightful owner of the Elder Wand."

In her last moments, Bellatrix's thoughts whirled as she tried to process all that Potter had said. Was he  _ really  _ the master of the Elder Wand? And  _ Snape -  _ a double agent? She was able to appreciate the man's nerve, even if he  _ was  _ an apparent traitor. 

She watched as the Dark Lord convulsed, then lay still. His head was turned towards her, and she stared into his lifeless eyes as she felt her own existence fading. Bellatrix desperately tried to take one last gasping breath, so she might look at him for just a few more moments before she, too, slipped beyond the veil. So much power, so much potential. Together, they would have ruled the world. 

And as she died, a single tear slipped down her cheek.


End file.
